


Your Petals Soft and Torn

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: F/F, baccanoweek, might not actually be a shipping fic you decide, more headcanon than you can shake a stick at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Niki became immortal, and what can be done from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Petals Soft and Torn

**Author's Note:**

> Lucrezia/Niki? One-sided Lucrezia/Niki? Not sure how to define this.

She’d only wanted to help. 

She had just been so irrepressibly excited. Could she be faulted for that? Who wouldn’t be excited after pressing a pin into their fingertip and watching the blood seep back into their body as quickly as it swelled out? The liquor of immorality was as miraculous as its name implied, and she could have _kissed_ Huey and Elmer both for getting it to her so quickly. And extra besides! 

Of course she’d thought of Niki right away. The extra liquor would heal her and the light would come back to her eyes, and Esperanza would cheer up too, and she could write to Elmer and brag about how many people she’d made smile. Which is what he’d asked her to do with his portion in the first place.

She’d wanted to _help_.

But the liquor didn’t work the way she thought it did.

She helped Niki sit up, she held the glass to the girl’s lips, she watched with eagerness and fascination to see her injuries heal, and… they didn’t. There was no change. Niki looked back at her, her mouth shaping a question even as air escaped uselessly from her throat.

Lucrezia sat frozen, her limbs cold with dread.

_Maybe it takes longer than this._

_Maybe she needs a bigger portion._

Maybe, maybe—there had to be some other explanation—

She plucked a pin from her hair once more and took Niki’s hand. “This is going to hurt for a moment, darling, I’m so sorry,” she said, and gently kissed the tip of Niki’s pointer finger before holding it steady and driving the pin into it.

Niki twitched dully, but her face didn’t change and Lucrezia wasn’t looking at her face anyway. She was squeezing blood out of Niki’s finger with her nail, forgetting to be delicate, and praying wordlessly to the same gracious God who had ever favored her so far—

And after agonizingly long seconds, the blood that had almost dripped off of Niki’s finger reversed its direction and crawled lazily back towards the pinprick. A moment later, there was no trace of the wound.

She had healed—to exactly the state she’d been in when Lucrezia had given her the liquor to drink.

Lucrezia felt a horrible pain turn over in her stomach and crawl up her throat. Her mind raced with alternate explanations, with excuses. But she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for them. Far too late, she reached wrapped a hand around her side, to where an over-enthusiastic lover had left a shallow scratch a few days ago. The spot stung slightly when she pressed on it—not enough to trouble her, but enough to evince that it was still there.

Would always be there, now.

Lucrezia wrapped her other arm around herself as well, breathing shallowly. She couldn’t look at Niki. But the girl began to slump unevenly to the side without Lucrezia holding her, not strong enough today to sit up on her own, and Lucrezia had to guide her fevered body back against the pillows. She arranged the blanket around the girl and stroked her forehead—with her left hand—and asked, “Sweetheart, are you comfortable?”

Niki’s lips moved, but Lucrezia couldn’t read her answer. The girl’s breath gradually slowed. Lucrezia sat with her until she fell asleep, and then she took what remained of the liquor and returned to her own quarters.

*

It was a _truly_ irritating feeling, not getting what she wanted.

Dalton couldn’t help her. The so-called “omniscient” demon couldn’t even help her. Neither of them seemed to understand why it was simply unacceptable for Niki to remain like this, and they stared back at her obstinately no matter how much she tried to cajole them into doing something. Well, she had to assume that the demon stared. She hadn’t exactly seen his eyes. She’d felt them, though, felt pity mixed with a shrug of indifference. People weren’t supposed to look at her that way. She didn’t like it.

It was still better than Espy’s reaction, though.

He was _furious_  when he found out. He might have turned Lucrezia out to the streets if Carla hadn’t stepped in, standing defiant to the count’s anger and giving him the space to realize that Lucrezia was weeping. And it wasn’t even a deliberate ploy; she was truly heartbroken, had been heartbroken for weeks. It _couldn’t_ be her fault, this terrible thing; she didn’t want Niki to end up this way, she didn’t want things to be like this and yet here was Espy hating her for it—

When he saw her crying, he had stopped shouting mid-sentence, turned on his heel, and marched out of the room. Carla had held her, calmly reserving her own horror at the situation for later in order to provide the comfort that Lucrezia so desperately needed.

After that, Espy had been cold to her for a month. But through it all, Niki needed looking after—would always need looking after, now—and eventually, Espy let Lucrezia join him when Niki was feeling well enough for writing lessons. Over time, things settled.

She didn’t ever dare ask if he’d forgiven her. They would both be happier if he didn’t have to hurt her.

*

After he died, Lucrezia was all Niki had.

(Well, and Renee, of course; but she let Lucrezia visit often.)

Niki could read and write now, and she had slowly shared her story with Lucrezia. So Lucrezia knew what Elmer and Fermet meant to her; she knew why Niki tried to smile when the pain was at its most unbearable. She knew why Niki didn’t want to be devoured, not yet. So, as the years passed, Lucrezia offered less and less often. She learned to love Niki without pity and without guilt. Loving people as they were had always been she was best at; maybe she should have remembered that all those many years ago, before she’d tried to help.

But there was no use in dwelling in the past.


End file.
